This is my blog. I can't promise that I will update it every day, or even every week, but I will do my best.
I can promise to tell you how I feel, about anything, and sometimes everything. You will hear about my kids, my husband, my life, and the state of affairs in the world today, all from my perspective, be it interesting, entertaining, or not sometimes. Happy reading, and thanks for dropping by.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Yes. I know I have said that many times. I feel the need to say it again.

I'm 22 weeks, or about 4-5 months pregnant. How ever you want to look at it., and this sucks.

Not only does it hurt to lift my legs, and hurt in not nice places, but I still get random shots of serious queasiness. Tonight, the whole family was horsing around, when I suddenly threw up a little. I managed to keep it on and in me, ran to the kitchen, and had to hang there for like 20 minutes.

This sucks.

The pain is getting to be pretty bad some days. Not the normal pregnancy pain, but the pain from having double hernias and being 22 weeks pregnant. It really, really sucks. I lay in bed, tears forcing their way out of my eyes no matter how much I tried to hold them back, for at least an hour today.

Sucks, I tell you.

I know that when a baby comes, life is difficult. I have done it before. Never with two children, and one of them in school at the crack of dawn, but I definitely understand the process. I get that I won't sleep for more than two hours at a time. I know I'll be drinking enough coffee to make my blood turn a murky brown, and that is even if the baby, heaven forbid, develops a lactose problem. I'll just be drinking it black. I know we will all have a massive adjustment to having a tiny one again, but I welcome that, and all the grouchy, icky, spit up covered woes it will bring. I would welcome the sleepless nights and dirty diapers with open arms if I could trade that now for what I am going through.

I don't like being pregnant. I don't like not being able to do what I want. In fact, I can barely do anything without it causing me pain these days. I should have been dragging my tail up to a friend's house to help her every day this week, but I haven't. I just can't muster the get up and go to be able to deal with it all, and I hate not being a good friend like I need to be.

This SUCKS!

I realize this whole thing is nothing but a pity party, but sometimes, you have to throw one, and that's ok, as long as you don't stay.

I won't stay. I'll get over it.

I promise to be better, and happier, soon. Until then, just promise not to laugh at me when I can't raise my legs more than three inches with out a twinge in my va-jay-jay. Instead, laugh with me when I swear to you that a cantaloupe is going to fall out of there any minute. Laugh with me when I forget for the 100th time what we said we were going to do next week. Laugh with me about everything we can find to laugh about. Laughter really is my best medicine, and I can use all of it I can get.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

I don't know that naming a child is ever easy. In our little family, it certainly isn't.
I think that my family feared for all of my children, long before any one of them was conceived, or I was even married. I am pretty sure they thought that names straight of the Goth book of baby names, which I did consult, would be on the top of my list. They were probably expecting a little Chaos, Draven, or Siouxsie would be coming their way.
However, I would say I shocked just about everyone with our name choices. They both have lovely, normal names, and maybe even a little bit traditional. Both girls have flowers in there somewhere, and are also familial names.
I think we did quite well.

This last one, though, seems to have used up all of my ability to give a nice normal name. I am really at a loss, and everything I like, that fits with the theme we have going, is a little out there.

My Husband hates them all.

In turn, he is really trying to push names he likes. Part of that may be that I really had a larger part in coming up with the names of both girls, even if he agreed and liked them. So, he is pushing things he really likes that are his ideas this time. I understand that.
The sucky part is that had this one turned out to be a boy, and it may yet as there is a small chance, we have a name ready. One that he came up with entirely, and I love. I really do. I am committed to that name for a boy until we officially can't have any more. Girls names, though, just aren't going to be easy.

Throw into the mix the fact that we already have two other children who want to be part of the process, and while we may not end up with a Chaos, we definitely have naming chaos. There are names just flying about all the time. I'm sure it would be comical to hear and see our conversations if you weren't the one naming them. It's like some twisted game where we face each other, the first person shouts off a name, the next then counters with some other name. It can go on for hours, with with middle name variations and all.

Seriously, this is difficult.

And we aren't the kind of people who can wait until we see the baby to name it, either. It won't just come to us. We will agree before she gets here, one way or another. The another may be a challenged game of skill, but we will come to some agreement. Maybe we will break it down Brady style with a house of cards, but one way or another, we will be ready by the time we walk into that hospital to deliver.

So, to all of my family and friends, please be prepared. We may have spared you the "What did they name her?" shocked question the first two times, but I make no promises this time around. Get ready. She will be who she will be. She is our special little one, and while we won't be making up any Renesmee type crazy things, she may be the most uniquely named one of them all.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

I think, in a perfectly juxtapose way, the two main gift brands passed at our house this year were Barbie and Nerf. That's right. Nerf. As in Nerf guns.
The Girls got a Nerf Gun.
Their Father got a massive Nerf gun that is has its own shield attached, Nerf bandoleer straps with extra ammo cases, and extra Nerf bullets.
I even got, in what was a very sweet gesture, a tiny little Nerf gun that will go under my pillow now to help ward off early morning sneak attacks, and really will be The Littlest One's first gun. Apparently, she needs one as soon as possible, and I can bear the gun, like I get to bear her, until she gets here.

Just because our house is and will continue to be made up of primarily females, 3 daughters, 2 female Guinea pigs, and me to one lone male, we don't play tea party or bake all day long. While we love to do those things, by no means do we keep it straight girly around here.

Not only do we have Nerf wars, complete with favorite hiding spots for ambushing your enemy, but we do all kinds of cool things, that once would have been reserved for only boys.

The Girls know helicopter Aircrew calls. They know them because their father practices the calls with them when appropriate. Generally, this starts at a young age when he can still lift and throw them pretty well. The Girls have practiced auto-rotations, simulating loss of engine power and the helicopter spinning downward. They have practiced Search and Rescue calls as they jump out of our vehicles, where the call leading up to it directs the SAR swimmer to jump from the helicopter into the water. They "jump, jump, jump" well on command now.

The Girls wrestle and fight with their father as much as any two boys do. Either he or The Big One start it all the time. We can't sit on the couch together without someone ending up in a head lock, or fighting for their lives to keep from getting farted on. Which, I must admit with a bit of chagrin sometimes includes me, and is one of the times I do wish we kept it a little more girly around here.

Still, I love the fact that The Girls can do it all. They can go and play with Barbies for hours on end. They carry around their little stuffed animals and care for them like little babies. Then they can go pick up a Nerf gun and shoot down a fort made of the boxes from their Barbie toys, as much of Christmas day was spent doing.

I want them to all be well rounded. I want them to reach for any dream they can dream of, and teaching them that its ok for girls to have a Nerf gun and a tea set is part of that. I hope they all grow up to be strong women, prepared to take on the world, in whatever capacity they choose to take it on. Whether they end up helicopter pilots, lawyers, chefs, or homemakers, I want them to be the best that they can be.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

As I posted before, my OB wants me to see a surgeon. The surgeon that has handled my hernia stuff before doesn't have privileges at the women's hospital I will be delivering at. So, she won't be able to do it. The OB put in a referral for a general surgeon, and I'll give you one guess who called today.

Don't need it?

Yup. Naval Hospital Balboa.

They have the first right of refusal on everything. So, anytime a referral goes through the system, someone there decides if they will take the case or not. At least, that is what I was told. Apparently, they want me now.
If you cause it, you can't fix it. That is my rule.

Instead of having a total conniption fit, though, I just told them that this would be a problem since we needed to have the surgeon in room at my delivery, and I wouldn't be delivering there.
They guy took notes and will call me back.

This better be the end of it, because you can believe that no Dr there will ever be touching me again. Ever.
I've been violated enough by one Dr there. I mean, just the though of going back there to get my records makes me feel awful. Its like visiting the scene of the crime and the fact that they turned the delivery of my child into something that feels like a crime really pisses me off. I mean pisses me off. What should have been one of the most beautiful, memorable experiences of my life, was taken from me. There certainly was a crime. I was robbed of the joy and love that should fill my memories of that day. While having my child here is wonderful, the day she was born, and the aftermath, will never be what they should have been in my memories. I live the with physical pain of what they did every day of my life, and I will for the rest of my life.

So, the idea that they would even think that I would ever come back there is beyond laughable to at least ludicrous.

No. I won't be making that appointment. Ever.

I don't want to go all Mamma Bear here. I'm going to stay positive, and not make rash plans. Just know that I will mean it when I say I won't be there. From the bottom of my heart, one of the organs that didn't get screwed up by them, I mean it.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Currently, we live in military housing. It wasn't my first choice, and still isn't sometimes. Military housing can be a little crazy. You have all kinds of people, of very mixed ages, living smushed right on top of each other, and I really mean smushed. The community I currently live in is very new. About 7 years ago, they tore down the 700 homes that were here, and started building. In fact, when we moved here 6 years ago, they were under construction and hadn't even started about half of the community. The thing is, they built back almost a thousand homes in the place of those 700. So, were really talking tiny, but tall, town homes. I live in a three story home just to fit the three bedrooms we now have in. So, when you can practically answer your neighbor's phone for them, there can be difficulties. Not always, but it happens, especially when you have the neighbors we had who partied until 2 am right below my bedroom window every night.

Occasionally, there are also benefits. You need benefits. One of the nice things about living in military housing is that if your family grows, you have the option of getting a larger house sometimes. We are exercising that option. I am not keen on the idea of a three story with a new born, the girls sharing a room, and being on the third floor by themselves. We could do it, but I don't really want to. Instead, we went into the housing office, and because we are willing to move around the holidays, they were actually able to offer us a 4 bedroom house on the spot. That is very rare around here. I spent a day going back and forth between housing, trying to find a better house than the one they first offered us, as it was on the only really bad street we have in this community, and backed up to a dump. I lucked out. A house diagonal to ours, on our street about 30 pace away, was also available. We took it as fast as they would give it to us.

This also means we have to move as fast as possible. Around the holidays. The idea of being in a home that is better laid out for us is fantastic. I just wish there was a a way to have it instantly happen. I would use one of my three Genie wishes for this if I could. A blink or nose wiggle and have it done would be awesome. I'd give my eye teeth for an "Easy button" about now, too.

Instead, I'm waiting right now for a pre-move out inspection, which will tell me what all I need to fix before we move. Since we are also moving within housing, they is the one where they really approve our move. They pretty much want to get in and make sure we haven't trashed the place before they let us move to another place. That makes sense. The down side is that I am not able to do much, and I stress incredibly about how much I need to do. Remember, I am emotionally unhinged.

Then come more packing, cleaning the new house, bumming anyone we can get to help us move, cleaning the old house, and then settling in at the new place and unpacking. All with my physical limitations, and two monkeys as The Big One is out of school for a month.

I suppose this is just another thing we will get through. In a few weeks, we will be all moved into our new place, settling down and getting ready for The Littlest One. It will be nice when it is all over and I go from 4 bathrooms to clean to three. I'm sure I really will be glad in the end, but until then, everyone hold on, and get ready for the moving storm coming.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

My head is trying to think logically, reasonably, but my heart is a little sad tonight. I'm trying to convince my heart to believe my head, but it just isn't working.

Today was another of my OB Dr appointments. This one wasn't my favorite.

Before I go any further, I need to insert a little back story for those who don't know. When it comes to pregnancies, I am anything but normal now. I don't think I ever was, having a bad history with pregnancies in general, but my last one ended very badly with the delivery. Instead of doing a normal c-section, the Dr, aka the Butcher in my house, decided to do an incision that starts at my belly button and goes about 4 or so inches up. Yes, up. From that, I developed a massive hernia, and all of my organs had to be held in place with a piece of mesh about the size of a sheet of notebook paper and 10 staples going around my abdomen. While that is still in place, I have lots of problems with it. Then, because my abdominal muscle where was so strained, the site of my first c-section ripped open. That is still open. I was supposed to have this massive, nasty surgery, where the Dr was going to "remove the mesh from my tissues" debreed the opening (cut off all the dead parts of muscle to make it smooth), then sew me up from bottom to top of my abdomen. That would cause some pulling with the muscle being more narrow, and so she was going to have to slit the side muscles of my abdomen all the way down on both sides to make more room. Sounds nice, huh?

Instead of doing all that, I got pregnant.

Oops.

The first appointment I had was a little scary. There were maybes thrown back and forth. However, by the second appointment, we had a hope. They might be able to do a simple c-section, closing up the opening that is already ripped open, and just leave the rest for a while, so that I can at least care for my baby the first few months. Eventually I would have to go back for the big nasty revision, but it could wait.

Today, the Dr just started rain on my parade a little.

To begin with, we don't have my records from the last c-section, and they can't plan anything for sure without them. This is a must have, and 10 weeks later, no records from the previous hospital. Now, I have to physically go down there, something I really will HATE doing, and get them myself.

Next, the Dr decided I have to go see a surgeon. This is starting down a path I had really hopped to avoid. I don't want to have the big nasty surgery when they take the baby, but it might have to happen. The surgeon will be the one who really would look at everything, and make that decision. It doesn't mean that it will happen, this just means that we are on the path to having that be an option. I am trying to tell my self that this is just being prepared. My OB also said that they don't deal with hernias, especially something so complicated and rare as mine is. He wants someone who specialize in this, and would be more equipped to fix it once they got in there just in case. Again, I have to tell myself this is all just good, practical planning.

Unfortunately, all of myself can't quite see it that way. I want what is best for all of us, and if that means something that my heart really doesn't want, my head may just have to work double time to convince it.

Just to throw a little bit of salt in the wound, I had to get a tetanus and whooping cough shot today, because apparently whooping cough is back big time, and horrible for pregnant women.

Then, I had to have blood drawn for a standard gestational test, and the tech was terrible. He complained that my name was too long (I have both married and maiden last names along with a long first name). I told him he should be glad he doesn't have to write it every day then. When I found my focus spot on the wall, and started deep breathing, he ask how I was doing . I returned the question, noting how he was doing was much more important than me at that point. He thought he was being cute by telling me he was terrible, devastated, and piss off all at once. I dismissed him. Unfortunately, there was no one else there. So, he took the blood, made it hurt, and left me with a big knot beside the vein he drew from.

Now, I'm upset with a very sore left arm in two spots.

This sucks, to say the least.

If there is any positive, its that we got to hear the baby's heart beat, and that always makes my day. Even if The Littlest One is kicking away, hearing a heart beat always warms my own heart. I am thankful that we are half way there, and pretty soon, I won't have to wait to feel the kicks inside anymore. No matter how we get her, I can't wait to get her.

Long, long ago, before children, when I still wore the makeup and the boots, I used to have beautiful Christmas trees. Each year it was the same. I put real red roses, dried, on my tree with white lights, and silver balls. I would sometimes use some red poinsettia flowers as well. Anything that went on it was red and silver, and of course the white lights. I would say it was a very fitting tree for my personality, especially since i had a thing for dried roses. It could have been something for a magazine cover, maybe a dark/goth lite magazine, but still, a magazine.

Now, however, my tree is totally different. I don't think there are any limits to what we put on it. Now that I have children, I believe that the tree should reflect that, and be very festive. We might even take that to the extreme now. I think my tree looks a little like Christmas threw up on it, but at least it screams Christmas. We use white and color lights. We have more cartoon characters than you could probably count placed all over. There are ornaments to represent each child, and different years. Our garland is one of those colored paper ring things, and sometimes we add popcorn strings, too. We have ice cycles, snow flakes, and real candy canes scattered about.

Then, my favorite part would be all the ornaments that The Girls have made. I love those things. Each year I have The Girls paint a ceramic ornament that my mom makes. We sign and date the back. It is a beautiful time line of maturity to see The Big One's first ceramic ornaments that she painted until the one for this year. The Little One doesn't have so many, what with her only being three and all, but she will get there. These are things I will treasure forever as a mom, and are probably one of my favorite parts of all of Christmas.

I guess when others look at our tree, they might see the Christmas vomit. They might see a tree that has garland going in 5 different directions, because that is the way little hands put it there. They might see one more hot mess hanging out in my living room. I really don't care what other people see, though. What I see is love and family, and nothing says Christmas more to me.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

This Big One is very much a sensitive child. She takes everything to heart. Right now, that is working against her.
She is having a difficult time dealing with the death of her friend's mother. At her age, having a friend's mother die is a total shock. That stuff is supposed to happen when your friend is 50, not 7, but here it is.

All day today, she needed me. This child doesn't need me unless the milk jug is too full and she knows she will spill it. Today, though, I was needed constantly. It took forever to do math homework. Again, this child does not need me. She is well, and I mean well, above average when it comes to math. Today, though, I had to show her how to do each problem again and again. At one point, I finally had to go do laundry and get out of eyesight or else she would have really wanted me to sit and explain each little problem to her repeatedly, and that doesn't help her learn. She needed to sit by me, on me, on the couch tonight. She had to be in the kitchen with me no matter what I was doing. I had to turn the water on for her bath, because I get it right. I needed to wrap her towel around her after bath. I needed to put her to bed, and stay in bed with her, which I did, until she fell asleep. All day today, she needed me.

She is scared. She needs to know that I am there. I have opened the door many times to talk about what happened, but she doesnt' want to, not yet.

We did manage to talk about her friend. I explained that even The Big One doesn't want to talk about the death and how she feels, she needs to let her friend talk to her. She doesn't have to respond verbally, or discuss it, but just be a friend and listen. I explained to her that it might make her friend feel better to get to talk about her mom to someone who will listen, and The Big One can do that.

Bless her little heart, when I told her how it makes you feel better to talk to about someone that you lost she said that it was like when I talk about Princess, my old family dog who died long before The Big One was born. She had tears in her eyes when she told me that she loved Princess too because of all of the stories my Mom and I tell her. It was so sweet. She is just that kind of child. She feels everything, for everyone. While that can be a wonderful attribute, it can also make like a little harder sometimes, like right now.

It was a difficult day. Hopefully tomorrow will be a little better, and each day we can gain back a little of her independence. I will dote on her a little extra each day, and make sure she knows I love her, and am here for her. I will always be here for her, as long as I am here. I love The Girls more than anything in this world, and if it means turning on their bath water when they are 17, and they just need me, so be it. That's what moms do when you hurt. We kiss it and make it better. The Big One got lots and lots of kisses today, and has lots more coming in the days to come.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Life really isn't like the movies. In the movies, you may not like your life, and you get to wish you weren't there. After you see how much worse off the world is without you, you have some sort of redemption, and get to go back to your life, happier than ever. Real life doesn't work like that. Once you are gone, the people around you get to see how much worse off the world is, but you don't, and we can't get you back.

Each year that The Big One has been in school, an adult in the school has died.
The first year, it was a lovely womyn that worked with all the kids. She worked in the lunch area, and volunteered her time with the kids, too.
Last year, it was their coach/P.E. Teacher.
This year, it was a teacher, who also happened to be the mom to one of the girls in The Big One's class.

We were shocked when we went in today and were told that she had died at the end of last week. It was very sudden. She passed away in her sleep one night, perhaps of a heart attack. That's it. That's all there is.

This woman was not only a teacher and mother, two incredible roles to begin with, but she was a Girl Scout leader, and led other groups at school as well. She had two daughters at the school. The older one is in the crossing guard and robotics club, which I believe her mom was faculty advisor for. She always seemed to be very involved. She will definitely be missed. I doubt that we can even count the number of lives she had touched though all of her works.

When you see someone like this pass, you only wish life were like the movies. I wish we could see how much we should appreciate people before they are really gone, but we don't get a second chance in this reality.
These girls have to go on without their mother. Life must continue, and no matter how much we want, we can't change what is.

I can say that this is a wake up call. We can't see what life is like without her, and then bring her back, but we can see maybe a glimpse into what life would be like without us. Seeing someone in your own peer group die so young, I would guess just under 40, makes you realize that you have to do the best you can while you can. I could go at any time. It makes me want to be a healthier, happier person. I have to realize that just because somethings in life suck, doesn't mean that life sucks, and we should never take anything for granted. Maybe this is my chance to really see how much life means with me in it, and take steps, like healthy ones, to be sure I stick around for a while. Maybe this is a change to really appreciate those around us now, and be thankful to and for them while we can. Perhaps I am just morbidly engrossed because my dad started cancer treatments today, and I am full of extra pregnancy hormones, but I am having one of those moments where you really see how fleeting life is.

I can't bring anyone back. I can't change what is. I can only promise to be the best me that I can be, and appreciate my life, and those in it, while I can.

I can honestly not count how many times that My Husband has ask my why I am crying this pregnancy, only for me to sob in response, "I don't know". When I answer that, I really don't.

I can feel the tears start, and in my head, I realize that I shouldn't be crying, but I can't do anything about it. Something simple will catch me off guard, and just like that, I will be a blubbering ball of mush for all the world to see and have concern about.

It is correct to be concerned, too. I could break down on any one, at any time.

The Big One's teacher must have thought I was a total nut job until he found out I was pregnant. He very kindly stayed after class one day top go over class room policies and stuff as I couldn't attend the open house the night before. In the midst of it all, I just started welling up. I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to play it off, and I think he was happy to let me try, but we both knew I was crying for no real reason. Thankfully, he knows I am pregnant now, and when I start to get teary, he understands just to ignore the instant insanity that is the pregnant and hormonal woman. I believe he has a wife and children, there for he gets it.

If only there was some way to notify, or warn the rest of the world, who probably can't tell if I am just getting fatter or pregnant yet. I could wear a shirt that says "emotionally unhinged", but that could lead to a whole different set of problems. I guess the best bet is just to carry lots of tissues, and be prepared to sob "I'm soorrryy. I'm just pregnant" any time necessary.

So, if you know me, for the next few months, please be prepared to completely ignore my irrational outbursts. I promise to try to go back to being a rather nice, and balanced person just as soon as possible. Say in a few years.

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About Me

I am a 29ish year wife of a recent Naval retiree and mom of 3 gorgeous girls. Before marriage and kids, I was a dark gothic rose, but now, fishnets, knee high boots, and ultra white makeup that smears really don't work well for playdates in the park. Don't get me wrong, I still have my own special flare, I just keep it more real than surreal these days.
I am also, an ex-southerner, VW driving, red headed liberal republican vegetarian. Are those enough classifications for you?